Poetry Blogs (2017, freedom)
Slow Train to Freedom
Have you ever had the feeling, late one night,
that you're pounding down an ever-narrowing path
without the strength to either flee or fight?
Your feet touch with fear this wanton, ferocious earth,
but the stars reflected in your teal-blue eyes
are the brazier-fires of a homeless hearth.
Then a slow train, velvet-clad under coated skies,
Friday 22nd December 2017 1:51 pm
Child of Empire, he freely starved in Valetta
Free to resent the many fat priests
Free to go
Stowaway to Istanbul
Free to be beaten by the Ottomans
Sent back to hunger
Not stopped yet
Stowaway to Britain
Set loose in Imperial London
Free to prosper
Free to work
Free-diver repairing Brighton’s Pier
Freely volunteered in 1914’s Expeditionary Force
Free to marry,...
Friday 29th September 2017 7:04 pm
Pieces of Freedom; A personal perspective on Freedom and the deeply intimate significance of the powerful influence it silently wields in my life.
What does "Freedom" mean to you? Personally I believe its not only enjoying basic human rights but celebrating actual freedom everyday. The downside being that it is an everyday thing for us that we tend to forget the significance of it and reduce it to "ordinary" when in fact its the most extraordinary,most divine God given sanctified gift we have. Our free will so precious that our Creator Almig...
Friday 11th August 2017 9:01 am
They rewrote songs on the sceneries of their dreams,
under the same roof, in the same room, but alone.
Living in each other’s isolations,
so tiring, boring, sensual, overwhelming, warm.
In thoughts, several severely intimate moments had passed;
their knotted minds kissed intermittently, not seldom.
He knew he was boundless, liberal, enraged, , jealous, dizzy,
he thought h...
Friday 21st July 2017 9:13 pm
Heart whipping the veins
And I'm accelarating faster
Till I beat the wind
My legs a blur
My legs will tire
But my spirit flies
Like the wind
With a whoosh
Thursday 13th July 2017 8:44 am
A ghostly image of a soldier
stood in the background,
the scent of lilac's filled the air
even though it was winter.
A Mother with a babe in her
arms stood by a grave site.
Lilac's were the flowers her
husband had given her before
he left for war. So she
felt his presence.
She whispered, "Father this
Thursday 13th July 2017 2:20 am
“The pen is mightier
Than the sword”
To your enemies
Were every of
Your acerbic satire, also
Bitter-truth packed word.
His pen we ill afford
Nor could we
Fight him back
Word for word.
Strike him down
With a sword
About his whereabouts
Effacing a word!” they said
As a writer Baalu
Monday 12th June 2017 1:25 pm
After hearing the voice of despotism,
the cries of the hungry looking in the trash for bread,
the bitter language of solitude,
I look in the blue sky for serenity;
I create a landscape and try to dream
I seek peace among the white fingers of the aurora
After not finding the line of understanding,
the root of the soul,
the wind of justice,
the submerged freedom,...
Saturday 3rd June 2017 7:43 pm
The sky has now faded from view
Now the only light left is from you
Sometimes I feel afraid at night
but then your glow makes me feel alright
The energy that makes me feel delight
This energy releases me from the monotonous daylight responsibilities
It allows me to be me and to fully embrace everything that I see
The tense person I was an hour ago has left and now I am ...
Tuesday 23rd May 2017 4:02 am
Ouroboros is its own meal
The same is true with
Those from own country that steal!
To humstrung the incumbent
Most party members are not hesitant.
Ouroboros,they adore their party,
Which they obliviously or
Otherwise sully with
A rent-seeking identity.
They adore the incumbent
Yet they spell nation's
Slow but sure death
Siphoning budget earmarked
Tuesday 17th January 2017 11:57 am